Book 2 of the Homouth is where I REALLY got to write some fun scenes. After MacCammon is released she is forced to resort to unnatural, disgusting (to a prude) sexual practices in order to get the homouth removed. Poor Eileen! Especially the scene where former President MacCammon is raped senseless while bound by the lesbian daughter of a well-known politician, who ALSO has a homouth and is pretty fucking annoyed at having to hide her true feelings to stay in her father's conservative circles. And the scenes where a One Percenter who has been a huge donor to her party's campaigns lets MacCammon know what he REALLY thinks of her, with his cock jammed down her homouth and her chained and helpless the whole time. And the scene where a bordello owner demonstrates to her what it's like to be audited by the IRS (hint: no lube is involved) before turning her out to be a slave slut in his bordello. And the introduction of Talena the trainer and the dramatic escape attempt ... so MUCH FUN!

I think I'm really on to something in this story. The combination of current social issue, a huge comeuppance story, and tons of sex slavery and sexual bondage and dominance REALLY works together well.

I couldn't say ANY of this in my Amazon descriptions of the story, they've got a bunch of crazy-ass rules about stories and how you can promote them, but damn, I'm grooving on Book 2 of the Homouth, I feel like I've struck gold, authorially speaking. Get it while it's hot .. because there's EVEN MORE goodie to come in future additions to this story.

An Excerpt from President Slavegirl: Billionaire's Toy

Eileen's heart hammered as she looked at her visitor. She had been fantasizing about this moment for the last several days, almost constantly. And with a hideous, obscene eagerness and urgency. It was very clear that her new and improved libido was fully functioning. She had awakened in the morning both sticky and sweaty, and it wasn't the seaside air that made it so. She had to take a long shower to get the funk off, but it did relatively little good, because the glimpses she got of her own naked flesh, and more importantly, the feel of it as she washed it, turned her on tremendously.
Eileen could hardly stand her own eagerness as Giuterrez's procedure-doer strode into the room. He was a handsome young man in his 20s, of average height but with a really nice build and a pleasant, casual demeanor. Dark brown hair, strong jaw, sparkling blue eyes, a sensuous mouth that also tended to smile. He made a really great first impression.
"Hi, I'm Paul Atreides," he said, offering his hands for a shake. "Dr. Giuterrez sent me."
Eileen extended her hand to shake Atreides'. Firm grip, manicured nails. She had been half fearing some grubby lout would show.
"I hope you will accept this token of my respect," said Atreides, extending his hand. In it rested a tiny jeweled watch on a chain. It was not an expensive piece, but it was good looking. It was the sort of thing you could wear casually almost anywhere, though it was too inexpensive for any kind of formal occasion.
Not that this was a formal occasion. Eileen was uncomfortably aware that she had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and stroke Atreides. He was so attractive, so male, and she was so, so, needy.
Eileen smiled with her eyes and accepted the gift. She gestured to Atreides to follow her and went to the writing table that sat against the window.
"Thank you for the gift," she wrote. "It is lovely, and I appreciate the spirit that led you to give it to me. But I hope you will not think me forward -- did Dr. Giuterrez tell you exactly what my problem is?"
"He said that bad people put a homouth on you," said Atreides, "one that you could only get rid of by performing acts of sexual bondage with a man. Is that true?"
Eileen nodded, blushing slightly.
"Then you have my sympathy," said Atreides. "I will be very happy to help you in any way I can. And I believe I can help you. I am quite experienced at sexual bondage. I have brought many women great pleasure while in bondage. Of course, this has always been with women who were engaging in bondage because they wished to explore it for their pleasure. I understand that is not the case with you. So you may not have such pleasure as others might -- but I think I can make this as painless as possible, under the circumstances."
Eileen nodded thankfully. It was what she had hoped for, really. There was no prospect of anything really good coming from this union of their bodies. The best she could hope for was a quick end to the business with her mouth restored to her face.
(Why, then, was she trembling so? Why did her heart beat so hard? Why was she almost unable to look Atreides in the eye? What was she so afraid of what he might see in her eyes?)
"Before we begin, are there any other rules I must know of?" Atreides asked.
"Yes," Eileen nodded. She had thought about this and had prepared. She handed a note to Atreides. The note said:
“I must be bound. They definitely said my hands must be bound behind my back or to some object that rendered them useless, and me helpless. Ties they suggested were hands behind back, wrists to ankles, wrists to thighs with ankles bound apart or together, hogtie, spreadeagle, half spreadeagle and probably a few others I missed.
I must be penetrated by a man's cock, orally, anally or vaginally while bound. I think it would be a good idea if I were to have an orgasm, but I'm not sure that it's necessary.
If I am not being penetrated orally, I must be gagged while being penetrated elsewhere. The gag must be a penetrative sort of gag -- a ball gag, or a dildo or vibrator held in place with a rope or straps. They were very firm on that point. The thing that gags me must be secured in place, you just can't stuff something in my mouth.
That's all there is to it. My only request is that you not hurt me as you do it. There are many yards of half inch cotton twine and some suitable gagging materials in the upper left hand bureau drawers at the foot of the bed. Please, take me and do as you will, it is so much easier for me if I don't have to ask.”
"I understand," said Atreides as he finished reading the note. Eileen, with her politician's well-developed sense of people's real feelings, knew he was lying. He probably thought all of this was an elaborate charade devised for the sake of her fantasies.
This was exactly what Atreides thought. A rich woman, unable to take responsibility for her own sexual urges. She had even talked Giuterrez into believing it. Oh, well, it did not matter. Atreides could take care of her needs. He could go along with it, he had gone along with much wilder fantasies.
"With your homouth, we'll need a safe-signal," said Atreides.
Eileen looked at Atreides inquiringly.
"Yes, if anything that is going on disturbs you or hurts you in any way, you need a signal to let me know about it so we can stop," said Atreides. "If you could speak, we'd have a safeword, but many women who enjoy bondage fantasies like to be gagged as well, and some have homouths, so safe signs are not at all rare. Perhaps you should flip me a bird if you have a problem. Or make three high-pitched squeals, very fast, in a row. You do not make such sounds while in the throes of passion, do you?"
Eileen blushed and shook her head "No," vaguely offended that she had even been asked the question. She did not have throes of passion.
What made it even worse, somehow, were the intense sexual feelings that now filled her, feelings she did not want to acknowledge. She did not know what her voice would have sounded like if she had a mouth. She found it a comfort, in a way, that all she had to do was look at Atreides and do as he said.
"OK, just to make sure we are clear on this, I want you to give the signals," said Atreides. "Flip the bird at me and squeal three times, very high pitches, very fast."
Eileen flipped Atreides the bird and let forth with three very fast, very high pitched squeals that mostly came through her nose.
"OK, if at any time you feel a need to stop the proceedings, you flip me the bird and squeal that squeal, and we'll stop whatever we're doing and take care of whatever the problem is. Understand?"
Eileen nodded her understanding. She knew she would not give the signals. After what she'd been through at the hands of the Sisters of Mercy, there was nothing this nice young man could do to make her uncomfortable enough to give the sign, when getting her mouth back was involved.
"Now, take off all your clothes," Atreides ordered.
It was as simple as that, Eileen realized. The order. She had to do it. And she really, really wanted to do it.
She began unbuttoning her blouse.
"Slowly, erotically," Atreides ordered. He was slowly, carefully, establishing a dominant tone with her. He knew just how to slide into her fantasies.
Eileen did not quite know how to undress erotically, since she had never done it in her life. In fact, had never tried to do anything erotically in her life. Even from childhood, she had been very proper, experiencing puberty only as a series of embarrassing assaults upon her sense of propriety. Raised by pious parents and strongly influenced by fourth wave feminists who had incorporated religion into their feminism, she had experienced puberty not as growth but as an invasion of her selfhood by an alien sexuality. In a sense, the things that her enemies had done to her with the homouth had been just an extension of puberty.
Now she was ordered to behave erotically by a man who could restore her mouth to her face, and so she tried. She undressed slowly. She made subtle lifting movements with her hands as she removed garments. She wiggled her hips a little. But the underlying sense of desire that filled her did not inform her movements in any way, and so her movements were stiff, unnatural, and not at all erotic. A lifetime of repressing erotic feelings did not vanish just because she wore a homouth on her face and had enough sex hormones circulating in her body to turn Rhode Island into the sexual equivalent of a smoking crater.
What the hormones did was crank up the intensity of her emotions. She could not believe how fiercely she desired to be taken. She would have cried, fallen on the bed sobbing, if Atreides had declared himself unable to go through with it and left the room, and not just because it would have meant not getting rid of the homouth. Her sobs would have been sheer disappointment at not having sex.

"Shameless Outlaws" by me, Pat Powers, is my first-ever actually-classified-as-such-by-Amazon romance novel, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's the story of Markus of Lothar, a world a lot like Second Life Gor. Markus is the semi-brave leader of a semi-bold band of outlaws, The Shameless Outlaws, and Silky is his slavegirl. They live in a world of constant raiding an fighting using weapons that don't kill but just render opponents unconscious if hit often enough. The weapons are technologically advanced but they look and work like bows and swords ... sort of like video game weaponry. When people are defeated in battle they enter the "Red Bubble of Unconsciousness."

Slinky is the former matriarch of a clan of cougar women, wild women who prowl the trackless forests of Lothar, fighting constantly with one another, kidnapping and using men sexually, and also having lots and lots of lesbian sex. Yet Slinky is inexplicably delighted with Markus and glad to be his slave. She's his big stupid stallion and she loves being ridden by him. There is much fun, consensual slavegirl sex to be had here, and it is had!

In short, this is a total parody of SL Gor, and the Gor novels, presenting a kinky video game as if it were an erotic romance. It was tremendous fun to write, I hope it is tremendous fun to read. So buy it and find out, or borrow it if you're on Kindle Unlimited, for nothing! Now that's a deal!